


Little Black Submarines

by supreme_genius



Category: Grimm (TV)
Genre: Language, M/M, brief mention of break up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-28
Updated: 2013-05-28
Packaged: 2017-12-13 05:18:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/820451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/supreme_genius/pseuds/supreme_genius
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Pick you up, let you down<br/>When I wanna go<br/>To a place I can hide<br/>You know me, I had plans<br/>But they just disappeared<br/>To the back of my mind"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Little Black Submarines

**Author's Note:**

> I still don't own Grimm.  
> I do, however, own my ideas.  
> I still don't make money writing this.  
> Unbeta'd.
> 
> Title is from a song of the same name by The Black Keys, which really helped inspire me.  
> I also don't own them either, aside from the songs I bought.

“Can I go with you?” Juliette asks, hopeful.

“Not this time. Sorry.” Nick reaches around her to grab his coat.

“C’mon, Nick.”

“No, Juliette, this isn’t just grimm stuff; it’s cop business.”

“But you can take Monroe?”

“He can hold his own.”

“And I can’t?”

“Not in the same way.” He kisses her forehead. “Just stay here. I’ll text you later.” He tucks his phone and wallet into his pockets, grabs his keys, and heads out the door.

Juliette sighs as the door shuts. “Go ahead. Pick him over me. Again.” She shakes her head and retreats to the kitchen for some wine.

\---

            When he reaches the end of the street, Nick pulls out his phone and calls Monroe, letting him know he’s on his way and to be ready. It takes exactly seven minutes for Nick to pull up in his usual spot outside his best friend’s house. Monroe descends the few porch steps and makes his way into the Nick’s truck.

            “Hey, man.” Nick shifts into drive and pulls away, heading across town.

            “Hey. I got some information about that watch you and Hank found. It’s pretty rare; only about a hundred were made. They were sold in Germany in the late 60s. It’s not something you’d find in an antique store or anything. They’re the kind of watch that would get handed down to a son or something.”

            Nick nods, trying to figure out how a nice watch like that ended up on the wrist of a dead bum. “Thanks, Monroe, that…sort of helps.”

            “Sort of?”

            “We found it on the wrist of a bum. Someone found him dead in an alley.”

            Monroe’s eyes get so wide they practically take up his whole face. “What?! A beautiful watch like that? Nope. No way.” Monroe shakes his head.

            “Could it be a fake.”

            “I’m sure there are fake ones out there, but they one you showed me was definitely real.” Monroe thinks for a minute. “What about your bum?”

            “What about him?”

            “Could he be a fake?”

            “What?”

            “Maybe someone made it look like he was a bum.”

            “Why would anyone do that?”

            “I don’t know man. Why does anyone do anything?”

            “Good point.”

            Nick pulls up to the alley way that’s still blocked off with tape. He leads Monroe towards the back, where the body was found. Monroe surveys the area, sniffing and listening. He woges and jumps in front of Nick at the same time someone rounds the corner.

\---

            “A trap. It was all a trap – the watch, the victim…” Nick winces as Monroe cleans the gash on his thigh. “…all to back me in a corner and kill me…us.”

            “There’s no way you could’ve known, man.”

            “You know, Monroe, sometimes I feel like I should just give up with this whole Grimm thing. Just let them win. They’ve gone after everyone I love and care about – you, Juliette, Hank, Marie, my parents. It’s never gonna stop is it?”

            “No,” Monroe says very matter-of-factly. “But you’ve got something that no other Grimm has had.

            “And what’s that?”

            “Friends. Support. A team. Back up. You’ve got police, a royal, numerous wesen. Dude, people care about you and we’re gonna keep helping you.”

            “Why, Monroe? What could you all possibly get out of this? You help and you get hurt. It’s not fair to you. Or anyone else.”

            “That’s what friends do.” Monroe looks up from the wound he’s patching. “Don’t you think that if we didn’t really care about you we would have bailed already?” He places some gauze over the gash and tapes it in place.

            “I guess you’re right.”

            Nick stares intently as he watches Monroe work. His hands are nimble and meticulous. Nick’s head starts to hurt and he turns away.

            “You okay, man? Maybe you have a concussion.”

            Nick shakes his head slowly. “No, I’m okay.”

            “Alright man, you’re all done. Good as new.”

            “Not hardly.” Nick stands and steps aside. “Your turn.”

            “I’m fine. Just minor scratches.”

            “Monroe, you’re bleeding through your shirt.” Nick reaches out and touches the damp spot on Monroe’s shirt; Monroe winces. There’s blood on his hand when he pulls it away. “Sit down.”

            Monroe listens, sitting down in the chair. Nick helps him pull off his shirt, which gets tossed in the trash along with the fabric scraps Nick once called clothes. Nick gets a little panicky when he finally sees the wound.

            “Monroe, you got shot?!”

            “What?” He looks over at his arm. “Oh. Yeah, guess I did.”

            “Come on, I’ll get your coat. We’re going to the hospital.”

            “No, man, I’m fine. Look, it just grazed my arm. No big deal. Just…clean it and patch it. I’ll heal.”

            Nick is slow to clean the wound and patch it. His hands shake, for the first time in months, as he does so. He’d gotten so used to patching up their war-wounds, but never had he been so close to losing Monroe. Shot! He let Monroe get shot! He tries to hide the few tears that fall but Monroe notices.

            “Nick, what’s wrong?”

            “You got shot! Damn it, Monroe. I’m gonna get you _killed_!”

            “I’m fine. It grazed my arm. We went over this.”

            “But next time it might not be your arm and it might not graze you.”

            Monroe pauses. “Nick, what would have happened if I weren’t there tonight?”

            “I don’t know.”

            “Those guys could have killed you. They could have taken you and tortured you. Who knows what they’d do to a _live_ Grimm?”

            “Too bad they didn’t.”

            “What?! Are you kidding me right now?”

            “It’d be easier for you,” Nick says, maybe a bit too calmly. “One less burden.” Nick won’t admit to it – because then it’d be real – but he’s thought about how much safer, better his friends would be if he were gone, dead. He’d never do it himself and he’d never go out without a fight. But he can’t deny to himself that if he were dead, the people he loves most would be safe.

            “Shut up, Nick. Shut. The fuck. Up.” Monroe jumps up, despite how much it pains his body. “I’d be pretty fucking miserable without you, okay? You have no idea how much you’ve helped me. You’re my best friend. Before you…I was so alone. I had no one. And then you shoved your way into my life and made me care about things. You moved in and made me love you. So don’t you _dare_ say that my life would be easier without you.” Monroe’s eyes burn bright red.

            Nick turns and walks over to the fridge. He grabs two beers and hands one to Monroe. “This is the weirdest relationship I’ve had in my entire life.” He holds up his bottle. “Wouldn’t trade it for the world.” He knows he should put a little more stock in what Monroe said, but he knows that man far too well to let this conversation continue and get them both all riled up.

            “You better not.” He shakes his head. He expected Nick to find a reason to argue, but figured maybe Nick finally figured out that it’s not worth arguing with him because he always wins.

            “So you love me?”

            Monroe shrugs. “Yeah.”

            Nick nods, trying to figure out what that means. “Me too.”

            They make their way into the living room, resting their aching bodies on the sofa. They sit close to each other because Nick has no sense of personal space and in the time they’ve been living together, Monroe has gotten oddly used to it. As they wiggle around, trying to get comfortable, Nick gets closer and closer to Monroe; so close that can Monroe can feel the heat from his friend’s body.

            Nick’s phone goes off, letting him know he’s got a text. It’s from Juliette, asking where he is and if he’ll be back soon. She wanted to make sure he was okay. Part of him wants to smile. He was so glad Juliette remembered him and knew about his Grimm life – knew and _accepted_. Maybe one day they _could_ get married now. But the other part – the bigger part – was pained by the thought of his relationship with Juliette progressing. He hated the thought of moving back in, of leaving the house he’s called home lately, and most of all, leaving the best friend who was kind enough to give him a home.

            “Guess I should probably get back to Juliette,” Nick says, his words lacking any enthusiasm, as he stands up and stretches as much as his body lets him.

            “Please don’t go.” Monroe reaches out and catches Nick’s hand.

            Nick sits back down on the sofa, never pulling away from Monroe’s touch.

            Without another word, Monroe leans over and kisses Nick. At first Nick kisses back, he lets himself indulge in something he hasn’t let himself want for a number of reasons – _I’m straight, he’s straight, we’re friends, I’m a Grimm, he’s a blutbad, he’s showed no romantic interest, things could be weird, and there’s Juliette_. Then those reasons start to get the better of him and he pulls away.

            “Monroe…I…we…shit…” He jumps up from the sofa.

            “Nick, please.” Monroe stands and reaches out to Nick, who steps away. “Nick,” Monroe says softly, voice strained. “Please don’t leave. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

            “Why did you?”

            “What do you mean _why_?”

            “Why did you…kiss me? Was it like heat of the moment or…”

            “Or what?”

            “Did you mean it?”

            “You really have to ask?”

            Nick just shakes his head.

            “Either way, I still shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry.”

            “What am I supposed to do?”

            “What?”

            “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. Stay here, with someone I love but haven’t let myself want, someone that makes me happy and makes me feel safe…or do I go back to the place that used to be home, with the woman I used to think I’d marry?” He looks down at the floor. “I wish you hadn’t done that because I could just go to her and it’d all be fine. Or I wish she hadn’t gotten her memories back because I could just stay here with you.” He looks back up, eyes filled with sadness, tears. “Monroe, please just tell me what to do.”

            “Go home.”

            “I am home.”

            Monroe didn’t know that three little words could break his heart like that, especially when they’re what he should want to hear. “Go home to Juliette. She can love you better than I can. She can give you a good life, a family. You don’t want me. You don’t want the mess or the baggage that I come with. Trust me.”

            Nick wants to protest. He would, but Monroe turns around and walks out of the room. Grabbing his keys, Nick practically runs out of the house. As he’s driving down the street he realizes that he put on one of Monroe’s flannels. He’s got all his clothes over there and for some reasons he’s wearing Monroe’s shirt. When he parks his car he tosses the shirt aside, opting for just his t-shirt as he makes his way through the night chill and into the house.

            “Oh god, what happened to you, Nick?” Juliette starts poking and prodding at him as soon as he shuts the door.

            “I’m fine. I’m just gonna head to bed, okay?” He doesn’t wait for an answer, just walks out of the room.

            Nick curls up in bed, his back towards Juliette’s side. He keeps his eyes shut when she walks in. He’s hoping she doesn’t try to talk or ask about what happened. Juliette slips into bed and curls up behind Nick, wrapping and arm around him. It makes him groan in pain and she pulls away.

            “Are you okay? Do you need to go to the hospital?” She asks in a whisper.

            “No.”

            “To which one?”

            “Both.”

            “If you’re not okay – ”

            “It’s not something a doctor can fix. I’m really tired and I just want to sleep, okay?”

            “Fine.”

            Nick wants to sleep but he doesn’t, not much. When he finally stops thinking about Monroe and everything that happened, he falls asleep only to dream about him. They first dream is okay; he and Monroe are on the beach. His parents had taken him once as a child and he’s always wanted to go back. The next one wasn’t good; Monroe got hurt and no matter how hard Nick tried, he couldn’t get to him, he couldn’t move. It was the third dream – nightmare, really – that was the worst. Nick had dreamt that he killed Monroe. It was after that that Nick gave up on sleeping. He slid out of bed as quietly and gently as he could and went downstairs.

            Monroe had spoiled him with good coffee, top shelf wine, and healthy foods. Nick made a pot of coffee. It was the cheap brand that Juliette had always bought and Nick ended up pouring it down the drain after one sip. He debates sending a text to Monroe. He grabs his phone from the counter and eventually sends a text. _Can I come over? We need to talk._ He curls up on the sofa and waits for a reply, which comes about ten minutes later. _Finishing a watch up. Client is coming at 9. Come over around 930._ Nick doesn’t reply. He checks the time – 7 am – and decides on a shower.

            Nick is rinsing the shampoo from his hair when he hears the door open. He lets out a soft groan. He watches as Juliette pulls back the curtain a bit and peeks in.

            “Want some company?” Juliette asks, trying not to look at all the cuts and bruises littered over Nick’s body.

            “No thanks. I’ll be getting out soon.” He pushes the curtain shut.

            “Do you have a problem with me…or with _us_?”

            Nick rolls his eyes the pokes his head out. “I really don’t want to talk about this right now.” He goes back to showering. When the door shuts, he’s relieved. He didn’t need to get into this right now.

            He finishes his shower and dries off. When he walks into the bedroom to get dressed, Juliette is sitting on the bed waiting for him. He does his best not to roll his eyes or sigh. He pulls on his boxers and pants before removing the towel, suddenly feeling a little uncomfortable under Juliette’s gaze.

            “Why don’t you let me bandage those cuts?”

            “No thanks. They’re fine.”

            Something inside Juliette snaps, igniting a fire. She’s been through too much to let Nick walk all over her like that. “Okay. Well why don’t you go let _Monroe_ patch you up again?”

            “Excuse me?” Nick’s tone is a bit harsh as he pulls on his shirt and turns around.

            “Monroe seems to be the one you prefer to let help you, the one you prefer to spend time with, the one you prefer to live with.”

            “First of all, I assumed ‘taking things slow’ meant that I shouldn’t move back in yet. Second, Monroe is my best friend. It’s hardly a crime to want to spend time with your friends. You do.”

            “Are you kidding me? Nick, they were all I had!”

            “All you had?! What about me, Juliette? I waited for you. I tried. I gave you space when you wanted it. But yeah, you’re friends are the important ones.” He shakes his head and walks out of the room.

            “Damn it. Nick, come back!” Juliette calls out, following him.

            “No. You know what? No! I am done waiting for you, Juliette. I can’t do it anymore.” He turns away from her. “I’ll come get my stuff one day when you’re at work. I’ll leave my key on the counter.”

            “But, Nick…”

            “Goodbye, Juliette.”

\---

            Monroe’s client is driving away from the house when Nick turns onto the street. He pulls into his usual spot and sits there. He wasn’t sure what he was going to say. Maybe Monroe would do most of the talking. He knocks on the door, despite having a key.

            “Why’d you knock? Please tell me you didn’t lose your key.”

            “No, I have it. I just felt like I should knock.”

            Monroe nods and steps aside. “Let me just clean up my tools and we can, uh, talk.”

            It was weird for Nick to think about how he felt so at home here, even if what happened last night made things weird. He still remembers the day Monroe jumped out the window and tackled him, then offered him a drink. He’d never guessed they’d get to where they are now.

            “So, let’s talk.”

            “Alright. Yeah. Let’s talk.”

            “Coffee?”

            “Oh god, yeah. Please.”

            Monroe pours coffee into two mugs, hands one to Nick, and sits in the recliner. Nick plops down on the sofa and drinks half before he says anything.

            “I’m sorry about last night.”

            “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

            “Yeah I did. Monroe, I treated you like shit and I’m sorry. I wasn’t fair to you. I can’t ask you to make decisions for me.”

            “It’s okay, Nick. I can’t ask you to change your life for me. You’ve got it all; had it before I even came into the picture.”

            “No I don’t.” Nick sighs. “I should have stayed last night.”

            “What happened?”

            “Honestly, I was kind of a jerk. She got kind of upset when she saw the bruises, but I just blew her off and went to bed. Wouldn’t let her touch me. This morning she wanted to… _join me_ in the shower and I gave her the cold shoulder. Then we got in a fight. I told her I was tired of how things were. Then I left.”

            “Wow. Were you just angry or were you serious.”

            “Both. I probably could have approached things better.” Nick lets out a short, dry laugh. “Seems to be a running theme in my life.”

            “Dude, shut up and stop being so self-loathing. It’s unattractive.”

            Nick scoffs.

            “All good things come to an end.”

            “Why are you so…?”

            “What?”

            “Calm, I guess. You don’t seem mad or stressed.”

            Monroe shrugs. “There’s no sense in being upset. I can’t make you feel something you don’t.”

            “I don’t know what I feel anymore.” Nick sighs and leans his head back.

            “Do you want some breakfast?”

            “Kind of lost my appetite.”

            “Do you want to go back to your house?”

            “Not in the slightest.”

            “Do you want to be with Juliette?”

            “No.”

            “Do you want to keep staying here?”

            “Yes.”

            “Well, there you go. Those are feelings.”

            “Yeah.” He turns and looks at Monroe. “I suck at feelings.”

            Monroe chuckles. “You definitely do. Now, come on, I’m gonna make us some breakfast.”

\---

            Nick decides on taking a few days off from work. Thankfully the criminals of Portland were semi-dormant and Hank was good on his own. It only takes him a day to go to the house and gather up all his things. Even though he and Juliette bought the house together, most of the things in it were hers or picked out by her. Most of the boxes he packed held clothes, personal documents, and other small items.

            Monroe cleans the attic while Nick’s gone. He makes some room for the rest of Nick’s belongings. He told his friend it would be good to get up there and clean anyway. It was clean and organized – more so than most attics – so there really wasn’t much to do. But he decided it was time to let go of some stuff he’d been holding on to for far too long. By the time Nick gets back, Monroe’s got about four boxes of junk sitting at the curb.

            “Alright, man. I made you your own spot up there for all your stuff. Let me give you a hand.”

            “Monroe, you didn’t have to do all that.”

            “Like I said; there was a bunch of stuff that needed to be sorted through.”

            “Thanks, man.”

            Monroe shrugs, grabs a box, and leads Nick up into the attic. It only takes the two of them about thirty minutes to unload Nick’s truck and get all the boxes up in the attic. Monroe suggests pizza for dinner – not feeling much like cooking – and Nick actually offers to pay.

            They fall back into their rhythm as they eat. Every time one of them get up – for another slice or beer – they sit closer. But Nick can’t help but still think about what had happened the last time they sat together on this sofa. Every so often he glances over at Monroe. Sometimes Monroe notices and looks back, smiling a little, then turning back to the television.

            “Part of me wishes you would have yelled at me,” Nick blurts out.

            “What?”

            “You could have yelled and got mad. You could have told me to leave or that you hated me. But you didn’t. You were so calm…almost indifferent. That’s what makes me wish you were mad.”

            “I’m not mad, but I am hurt. It sucks. That’s all there is to it. But I can’t force you to do anything. I figured if I got mad, it might chase you away.”

            “You could wolf out and chase me across town and I’d still come back.”

            Monroe chuckles a bit. “Yeah, so I’ve noticed.”

            “I _am_ sorry.” He turns more towards Monroe. “I wanted to keep kissing you, I really did. I’ve wanted to for a while, but I wouldn’t let myself want you. There was so much at stake and I just freaked out.” He sighs. “I really wish I wouldn’t have.”

Monroe takes a deep breath. “I’m just gonna throw this out there. But, um, we could…try again.” His heart is beating so fast it feels like it might burst.

Nick doesn’t bother answering. He just throws himself at Monroe and kisses him until he feels like his lungs are going to give out. Monroe wraps his arms tightly around Nick, like if he doesn’t hold on tightly, Nick will run away again. And Monroe can’t possibly cope with that again. He’s strong enough – or maybe just too proud – to keep his composure in front of Nick, but as soon as he walked out that door, Monroe lost it. If Nick were to actually pay attention to his surroundings, he’d find an empty spot on the mantle, left by a clock that was thrown in fit of rage.

Nick pulls away; his breathing is heavy. “Yeah…should’ve done that last night.”

“You gonna stay tonight?”

“Tonight. Tomorrow. As long as you’ll have me.”

**Author's Note:**

> This can stand alone, but is still open for another part.


End file.
